


Dust don’t turn to flowers

by Mishalocked24



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cas is just so angsty and loves Dean so much, Castiel Deals With Human Emotions, Don't worry, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, brief mention of Dean/OC, brief mention of Sam/Eileen, plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishalocked24/pseuds/Mishalocked24
Summary: Castiel is not capable of dealing with human emotions.Yet after one case gone wrong he'll have to question himself about who he really wants to be.From the story:“What’s wrong, Cas?” his deep voice makes him shiver and he can’t control the way his eyes are clouded when he feels the ghost touch of Dean’s mouth against his fingertips.Cas gulps steadily and then shifts his feet, bumping against the leg of the table.“Why-“ he breathes unsteadily. “Why do you kiss them?”





	Dust don’t turn to flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie and I won't tell that I am 100% satisfied with this ff, in fact I kinda hate it.  
> Yet I have to post this in order to understand how I can improve my writing and my stories.  
> So that's it.
> 
> P.s. Thank you, soul. Thank you for your patience and for your advices  
> P.p.s. The title of this fic is stolen by "Truth to power" by OneRepublic

 

What makes a human _human_?

Castiel has always wondered about men and their flaws, about the temptations and the pitfalls they seem to crave with all their essence.

They fail, they fall and often they reach the edge between what is wrong and what is right.

When the jaws of desperation clings to their fresh meats they always find a reason to get up.

Again and again and again.

Humans are pure flaws, yet their existence is one of the most significative presence in the whole universe.

Their smiles, their frowns, their fights and their hopes can subvert the Faith itself.

Every single human has its place in the product of the Creation.

But what does make a life _worth_ to be lived?

_Cas_ - _CAS. Can you fix her?_

_I_ -

_CAN YOU FIX HER?_

_I’m sorry, Dean._

All their flaws are what makes a human _human_ , all their temptations, all their pitfalls.

Yet what makes a life truly _worth_ to be lived, what makes a life _worth_ to just _exist_ , what makes a human _really human_ is free will.

 

*

 

Dean storms in the entrance, descending with heavy steps the stairs, while Sam and Castiel follow him dazed by his sudden outburst.

He launches the bag on the map table, making the blades inside it jingle noisily, then slams his hands and whips his head towards Cas, glaring at him with hard eyes.

“Why did you do that?”

Sam swallows and approaches him trying to soothe his anger.

“Dean, I don’t think that-“

“I’m not talking to you, Sam.” Dean interrupts him, raising a finger in the air. “I’m talking with him.” he suddenly points at Castiel, sneering. “What? Has the cat bitten your tongue?”

Cas takes a deep breath and thins his lips thoughtfully.

“She begged me.” his low voice seems to be slamming Dean in the face. His nostrils flame in fury. “She wanted to die.”

“Dean, DEAN-“ Sam’s arms block Dean in time before he could hit him. “She would have killed herself the same. Maybe not that day, but she would’ve done it.” Sam tries to reason, while Dean tries to pull himself free from his grip.

“You can’t know it.” Dean pushes Cas out of his way, taking a step forward threatening. “I don’t care what you think you know, _Castiel_.” His lips curl malevolently around his name while the angel looks at him stunned. “You know nothing, Castiel. _Nothing_.” he spits venomously. _“_ You’re no human, after all. Are you?”

Dean suddenly leaves and the only noise they can hear is the door of his room closing behind his back.

“Sam-“

“Don’t, Cas. Don’t do this to yourself.” Sam smiles bitterly and then takes his elbow, trying to anchor him. “Don’t.”

 

*

 

“Game of Thrones, dude. Seriously?”

Dean continues to zap through the channels, without ungluing his eyes from the led.

Sam scoffs and shaking his head snatches away the remote from Dean’s hands, leaving him wordless.

“Will you listen to me?” he snaps, crossing his arms on his chest and raising a judging eyebrow, watching carefully his brother sprawled on the bed.

A grimace spreads on his face against his will.

“ _What?_ ” Dean flares, meeting his brother’s careful glance.

Sam reaches for him and patting his thigh makes him move his leg to sit beside him.

“Cas.” Sam’s voice curls gravely around the name, making Dean shudder.

“What about him?”

“ _Dean_ , you’re perfectly aware of why I’m here.”

“Sam, leave it. Just… leave it.”

“You know what?” Sam gets up enraged by his brother’s words and glares at him. “Go on. Be the usual dickhead you are, avoid sentiments, avoid feelings and don’t you ever try to face a problem pulling out your balls. Hide and flee as well. That’s the only thing you know how to do after all, isn’t it?” he reaches for the knob of the door. “Talk with Cas. Talk with him and for once in your life try to see another person’s reasons.” he murmurs before leaving the room.

Dean fixes the void in front of his eyes for a single moment.

“I didn’t quote Game of Thrones.” he whispers at the empty place, trying to relive his discussion with Cas.

_You know nothing, Castiel._

A small smile pulls at his lips, making him giggle like a child when he remembers the scene.

“Maybe I did quote Game of Thrones after all.” he sentences before taking the controller back, starting to zap again between the channels.

_If Castiel is Jon Snow what does it make me… Ygritte?_

Another giggle bursts out of his lips.

 

*

 

When Dean enters into his room without knocking, Cas unglues his eyes from the angel’s blade.

“Am I disturbing you?” Dean’s voice is soft, almost shy when he reaches him, climbing over a black bag left in the middle of the floor.

Cas shakes his head and then with a tilt notices a silver package in Dean’s hands, acknowledging it with a questioning sound.

“This?” Dean leverage the envelope, jolting it a bit and spreading some crumbles on the floor. “This is one of the best homemade sandwiches with PB in the entire town.” then he proceeds to launch the tinfoil on the drawing desk besides Castiel.

Cas takes it, opening it a little to sniff its smell, frowning slightly confused.

“Are you aware that I cannot actually eat this anymore?” he asks, fixing Dean in the eyes and making him blush a little.

“I-“ Dean stutters, scratching slightly his neck. “Yes, but it’s worth a try. Isn’t it?” he beams, giving him a pat on the back, leaving his left hand linger on his shoulder blade.

Castiel closes his eyes and inhales sharply with his nose.

“Dean, I-“

“Cas-“

An awkward silence fills the room and both stop their words, glancing away flustered.

“You first.” Dean gestures towards Cas, sitting on the bed and stretching his legs on the duvet, crossing his arms behind the head.

Castiel brushes thoughtfully the cold paper enveloping the sandwich.

“I don’t regret what I’ve done there.” he says gravely, his voice no louder than a whisper. He stares at Dean with resolution in his blue irises, thinning his lips in settlement. “She had taken her choice and my choice had been to respect hers. I’ll never regret _this_.” his tone is steady and calm, secure. “You were right before, Dean. I’m not a human anymore, I’m an angel now and I cannot change whom I am with a snap of my fingers.” his words stop flowing for a single moment. “Yet _I_ know who I am. I know who _I_ want to be.” Dean straightens himself and places his feet on the ground, gripping tightly his knees. “And if this means to overcome your judgment, I’m ready to face the consequences.” Cas finishes, not dropping his gaze for a single moment.

Dean gets up and takes the blue tie resting on the backrest of a chair, letting it flow between his fingers.

“I think I owe you an apology, Cas.” his voice has no inflection when it leaves his mouth and makes Castiel turn around in confusion.

“What?”

Dean shrugs and leaves the cloth, taking a step forward.

“I overreacted last night. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.” his shoulders bend for a brief moment and then straighten again, leaving Cas dazed.

He paints a fake smile on his lips and then is voice seems to be brighter and louder.

“I owe you an apology, yes. After all you were right, _Sam_ was right. I just-“ his breath shakes. “I don’t know what I expected.” his green irises stare at his face in search of something. “We are good, Cas. Don’t worry.” he half smiles. “I’ll take this with me, considering you cannot eat it.” he takes the sandwich and then storms for the door, taking the knob between his slippery palms.

A sudden pressure on his right shoulder makes him spin around, enclosing him in the cage his eyes create.

Their bodies just an inch apart.

“ _Dean,_ tell me what you need.” he doesn’t flinch when Dean’s hand clings almost desperately on his forearm, trying to steady himself.

“I wish-“ Dean takes a deep breath and then lowers his hand, reaching for the knob. “Sometimes I just wish you could be _more_ human.”

The sound of the door resounds in Cas’ ears.

He’s alone.

 

*

 

“Hey, Cersei-“ Dean takes a seat and nudges his brother, stealing his beer. “How you doing?”

Sam raises an eyebrow, taking up his bottle again and glaring at Dean in the process.

“Ygritte maybe has understood that Jon Snow knows something after all.” he murmurs not looking away from the book he has retrieved before he entered the room.

Sam clears his throat and a little smirk takes place on his face.

“So… apparently Kansas has been invaded by an army of Wildlings.” Dean gives him a dirty look and Sam sniggers. “A den of vampires.” he clarifies, taking the beer cap and launching it towards the trash can.

Dean gets up and stretches his arms, glowing under the dim light of the room.

“Should we recruit the angel too?” he wiggles his eyebrows.

 

*

 

Cas can consider himself pretty satisfied when he shows his badge in the correct way to the policeman. The hard texture of the leather pinches slightly against his slippery skin when he puts it in the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Sam gives him a bump with his shoulder and with a nudge of his head points towards Dean, busy questioning a witness at the end of the room.

Dean is leaning against the wall, with his hands hidden in his pockets and his legs crossed slightly, a foot crooked towards the other while he listens to the words of the woman.

He nods at intervals, showing his sympathy, and when she breaks out and drags him down to hug him in tears looking for some support, Cas detaches his gazes from the scene, feeling a low tug in his chest and a sense of discomfort.

_Sometimes I just wish you could be more human._

But what does being human mean?

Maybe it’s all about the small gestures, a position where your body is comfortable, in which you can rest your limbs, a smile aimed to show empathy and kindness towards the next person, a tug to your heart when you feel out of place.

_Who am I?_

Cas’ attention is reclaimed by a jab in his ribs, he turns around and meeting Sam’s eyes he presses his lips.

_Dean and Sam Winchester, one of the most remarkable examples of human nature._

“Let’s talk with the Sheriff.”

The Sheriff is a tall, dark-skinned man, with thick moustache and a cowboy hat lowered messily on his head.

“What happened, Sheriff Logan?” Sam asks him, eying his name on the distinctive.

The man puffs and open his arms in disbelief.

“I don’t know, I think I’ve never seen something like this in my entire career. I’ve got no idea.” the Sheriff looks briefly to Castiel in search of sympathy. “To think that it was such a quiet town. The victims… I knew them, every single body lying under that sheet-” he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “I know that I should be above all, above emotions…” he seems to spit out the word, loathing it. “Yet when I laid my eyes on that poor girl… _I knew them._ ”

Cas closes his fists, his knuckles white for the strength and even if an inner voice says that he should do something -a hand on his shoulder, a smile of compassion, a sign that could make the Sheriff aware that _yes, he understands him_ \- he can’t bring himself to do anything.

He’s paralyzed.

It’s Sam that breaks the tension and takes the Sheriff’s hands between his.

“Showing emotions it’s not a dishonor, Sheriff.” the man shivers and glances away. “You’re human, Jackson. _You’re human._ ” Sam exchange a look of understanding with Dean from afar and then turns to Castiel. “I’m gonna take him outside to make him take a breath of fresh air.”

Castiel leans against the wall and hastily looses his tie, slamming lightly his head on the cold concrete behind him.

_You know nothing, Castiel._

_Sometimes I just wish you could be more human._

_But… who am I?_

Something brushes his side, making him startle. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dean besides him, inclined against the same wall, but with his face bent towards his figure.

Cas catches his breath.

“You panicked, didn’t you?”

Their eyes meet and Castiel gulps soundly when Dean hunches towards him, just a tiny space between their bodies. He tries to open his mouth to reply, but Dean hushes him raising a hand.

“Don’t worry.” he smiles bitterly. “I get it. I don’t blame you, Cas. I could never blame _you_.” he shrugs and then giving him a pat on his back moves away, reaching for Sam.

He can still feel the warmth of Dean’s hand against his body.

“I do.” he whispers to the void in front of him.

 

*

 

When the bottle of beer is uncorked, Dean sighs and let himself drop on his bed where he stretches his legs and turns the TV on.

Castiel looks hard at the position Dean has assumed and frowns slightly, thinning his lips thoughtfully.

Dean turns towards him and arches an eyebrow questioning.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Cas moves his gaze and as naturally as possible tries to mimic him, stretching his legs an inch and crossing his arms on his chest.

That’s what humans do, don’t they?

They try to stay always comfortable and if _that_ is what _they_ do when they lie on a bed then _that_ is what he _has to_ do in order to be _more human_.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay?” he asks sneaking at him, biting his lips in wonder.

“Yes, Dean. Yes.” Cas snaps. “Just turn up the volume, will you?”

On the flat screen flow black and white images of some unknown Western of many years before.

“You don’t have to do this.” the led suddenly becomes black and Dean turns towards Castiel. “ _You don’t have to._ ”

His breath itches in his throat and Cas gulps down the bile rising in his chest, a sudden tremor makes his hand jolt.

“You shouldn’t be doing what you don’t feel doing.” Dean continues with a bitter smile on his lips.  “You shouldn’t be doing it for anyone.”

_You shouldn’t be doing it for me_ is left unspoken, yet the silence that stretches between them after what hasn’t been said is deafening in Cas’ ears.

 

*

 

_What if I wanted to do it for me?_

_Do what?_

_Being human._

_Then do it._

_How?_

_Just do it._

When the light is turned off Castiel leaves the room.

Dean is snoring.

 

*

 

“You don’t think you’re being too hard on him?”

“Leave it, Sam.”

“You’ll lose him.”

“I can’t lose something I never had.”

The door closes loudly behind his back.

 

*

 

Happiness is a weird feeling, it blossoms all of sudden and makes you giddy for no apparent reasons.

The hormones strike, your eyes become shiny and dizziness takes control of your body: you can’t control yourself.

A small twitch of the lips, a bright smile painted all over your face, a laugh bursting directly from your heart.

Everything is better, everything -for one single moment- makes sense.

Happiness is _human_ and Cas doesn’t really know the meaning of it, but contentment on the other hand is a solid ground.

He’s content with his life, he’s content with himself.

Yet when he sees Sam’s eyes sparkle with emotion as soon as the led of his cellphone lights up notifying that a text has just arrived, he can’t help himself, wondering what Sam is _really_ feeling in that exact moment.

Some dimples form around his mouth when he smiles, taking the device in his hands to unlock it.

Happiness is a weird feeling, yet Cas sometimes wishes he could _really_ feel it.

Dean joins them, sitting around the map table, and passes a beer to Sam, brushing slightly against Cas.

His left hand lingers against his right shoulder, caressing his skin through the thin fabric of his white shirt.

“Was it Eileen, Sammy?” Dean breaks the silence, placing his feet on the table and smirking at his brother. “Was it a dirty pic, you old perv?” he blinks at him, laughing loudly when Sam glares at him. “Eh, Cas? Do you think our little Sammy here will have action soon?” Dean gives a slap on his back and if Castiel jolts when his fingers skim accidentally his neck -his skin is hot and the sudden warmth stings against him- he doesn’t show it.

“Dean!” Sam reprehends him, making his chair screech against the floor when he gets up. “I’m going to my room.” he states flatly not without a last glare toward his brother.

“DON’T FORGET THE LUBE!”

Sam flips him off.

_What is happiness?_

Maybe are the crinkles around Dean’s eyes now that he’s beaming with delight, amused by Sam’s reaction.

Maybe is the light in his green irises when he continues to stare at his brother’s back until he doesn’t turn the corner, leaving his sight.

Maybe is the fond smile that paints his lips, that lingers on his expression, making it softer, more vulnerable.

Maybe is his humanity.

Sometimes Castiel wishes he could be the reason of Dean’s smile.

 

*

 

A cold cloud of breath leaves Cas’ lips.

The lights are dim in the night and a street lamp flickers in intermittence throwing darkness on the asphalt.

The building that stands in front of their eyes is relatively quiet, nobody pushes the heavy doors to exit and nobody climbs the two steps to enter.

Sam is inside with the witch and they’re waiting for his signal to break through the doors, to catch her and retrieve the stolen Grimoire _–“It wasn’t my fault, Sam.” “It was, Dean.” “Will you ever shut up, Cas?” “Let’s just find this witch and bring the book back at the bunker. Shall we?”-_.

Cas raises his gaze and fixes his eyes on Dean’s silhouette, crouched on a low step and hidden in the dark, and stares at him in wonder.

“What?” Dean asks him, looking back and raising his eyebrows questioning. “Have I got something on my face?” he starts to scratch his left cheek annoyed. “I do, don’t I? I hate this sensation, when you feel something that is brushing your skin when there’s actually _nothing_ there. It drives me insane.” he finishes, dropping his hands on his lap and puffing irked.

Cas sits beside him and shakes his head, staring into the distance and letting his eyes wander beyond the foliage of the trees shaken by the wind.

They sit in a companionable silence for a while, the only noises are the ones that come from a television left turned on with a volume too loud in some apartment.

“Do you think Sam will still take long?” Dean nudges at his right shoulder to call his attention.

“I think he’ll take the time he’ll need.” he answers cryptically, making Dean cringe in disbelief and then snort loudly.

A small satisfied smile pulls at Cas’ lips.

“Useful as always, buddy.” he teases him with the smile still on his lips.

Some minutes pass before one of them speaks again.

“Back in Kansas-“ Dean raises his head and turns toward him. “When I saw that man getting-“ Cas takes a deep breath “getting emotional, I-“ his hands shake in agitation. “I was paralyzed.” his words are just a whisper in the wind.

“Why?” Dean asks tentatively, trying to overcome the cold grip that clamps at his stomach when he feels Cas shake besides him.

“Emotions, Empathy… are not for angels.” Dean closes his eyes and his lashes flickers against his cheeks. “Then why, _why_ , I want to feel them?” Cas turns his blue irises towards Dean and fixes his gaze in his eyes, staring at him bewildered. “Why can’t I fake them? Why can’t I-“ he scratches the palm of his hands with his nails. “Why can’t I pretend like the others?”

Everything stills.

Cas suddenly gets up and shrug his shoulders, rubbing his hands before taking his cellular to check the time.

“It’s getting late, maybe we should check on-“

“Are you cold?”

Cas snaps his eyes back on Dean’s and he stares at him confused while he gets up and reaches for him.

“Are you cold?” Dean asks again pointing at his hands still closed on the phone.

He takes it from his hands and he lets it slip in his coat, his jaw clenched in some unspoken feeling.

“Dean-“

“You were rubbing your hands.” Dean gulps and then he steadily looks at him. “Are you cold?”

A brief moment passes.

“ _Yes.”_

Dean nods and then invades Cas’ space, never leaving his eyes.

“Let me.”

The first touch on his skin makes him shudder and when Dean’s fingers enclose his hands between their grip, Cas’ breath is taken away by the sensation. His palm moves on the back of his hand and the sudden warmth stings against his flesh.

“What do you feel, Cas?” Dean asks.

“Warmth.”

Dean seems to be satisfied by his words and then lowers his head a little, putting his lips closer to his hands, just an inch away from them. His breath brushes him and Cas shivers in anticipation.

He can’t bring himself to stay still and he starts to breathe more uneven when Dean puts his lips on his skin, kissing the warm layer and making his heart beat loudly against his ribcage.

“How do you feel?”

Dean doesn’t move his lips and just leave them against him, making his skin damper with his breath.

Castiel closes his eyes.

“Unstable.” his voice is raspy and his words are barely understandable.

When Dean’s lips close around his fingers a loud moan escapes from his throat, making him dizzy. His vision blurs and when he meets Dean’s eyes he can’t distinguish its outlines. He gapes when his tongue lavishes around his fingertips and groans when Dean scratches at him with his teeth, making him tremble again.

Dean lets his finger slide from his mouth with a wet noise.

“How do you feel, Cas?” he asks.

His breath is hard.

Cas moans again when Dean sucks his fingers into his mouth, the feeling of his tongue is heavy against him and his cock starts to stir against his pants.

“ _A-alive._ ” he groans and closes his eyes when Dean swirls his tongue around his fingertips, making him thrust his hips forward, looking for some sort of friction.

He grips his hair hard and Dean moans too, gripping tightly his wrist and shutting his eyelids.

A sudden buzz against their pockets snaps them and when their eyes meet, an unsettled expression takes space on their faces.

_Sam’s signal._

“We have to go.” Dean doesn’t look at Cas when he enters in the building.

 

*

 

He starts to catalogue his expressions: the way he smirks when he makes a lousy joke and the way he frowns when he runs on some hard subject in one of the books of the Bunker.

The crease of his lips when he smiles is what makes Cas’ heart skip a beat whenever he lowers his gaze upon his figure, with his glinting eyes still shiny for the amusement, and the soft crinkles on his skin. Often his expressions melt into something softer, something that Cas is scared to describe as fondness.

They don’t talk about that night, Cas doesn’t ask questions and Dean doesn’t provide answers, yet his eyes seem to trail the soft shape of his mouth when it curls around words that aren’t addressed to him, his eyes drink in the sight of his lips folded around the green bottle of the beer he sways down in too few gulps.

“You should go slower with that stuff.” Sam murmurs, continuing to tap on his tablet without raising his gaze from the led.

Deans shrugs and taking one last gulp rests the bottle loudly on the map table.

“You’re a killer joy, you know that?” he asks rhetorically, wiggling his eyebrows towards Cas “Isn’t he, Cas?”

His lips are pink, slightly shiny for the remnants of the beer, and Cas stares at them thoughtfully, lowly gaping when Dean’s tongue swaps away the wetness from his skin.

A strange tingling on his fingertips makes him clench his fist, and when Dean calls him again, he snaps his eyes on his face.

“I said: Isn’t he, Cas?”

_How do you feel, Cas?_

He looks at Sam and takes a deep breath.

_A-alive._

“Yes, yeah. He is.” Castiel suddenly gets up and leaves the room.

_His lips are pink and he’s painfully hard in his pants._

*

 

“Dean, I don’t understand this game. Why should I bluff when I’m clearly holding the winning cards between my hands?” Cas says, showing his cards to Dean that stares back at him clearly annoyed.

“Cas, first of all for the hundredth time: you _must not_ show your hands to your opponents _before_ a bet is made.” Dean raises a finger and then proceed to raise the one next to it “Second… the bluff is one of the most ancient and noble tactics in the game of Poker. Everyone does it. I do it. Sam does it. You do it. It’s not that difficult.” he tilts his chin and takes Cas’ cards, putting them back in the deck and starting to shuffle them.

His movements are smooth and precise and when he serves them they land perfectly in front of Cas.

“One last thing-“ Cas begins, smiling guiltily when Dean glares at him.

“What now?” he barks, crossing his arms.

“If I had bluffed” Dean shifts and his body gets closer to the table, waiting for his words. “ _in this particular case_ ” Cas specify, starting to feel self-conscious when Dean raises an eyebrow exasperated “then that would’ve been for…” he smothers his words and an awkward silence stretches between them.

“Are you kidding me, aren’t you?”

Cas stays silent and Dean puffs sharply.

“ _That_ would’ve been for make your opponent believe that your game was poor, so he would’ve betted against you and you could’ve have called, raising with a higher price.”

The silence is still thick between them.

“Cash, Cas. We’re talking about cash. Now take your goddamn cards between your hands and let’s play, for God’s sake.”

Cas lowers is head in agreement and shyly peeks at his cards, noting satisfied his hand.

He raises an eyebrow challenging when he feels Dean’s gaze on him, and smirks when he throws the chips in the middle of the map table.

Dean doesn’t flinch and without changing his expression calls too, taking the deck of the remnant cards between his hands and smiling suggestively at Cas.

“So… How many cards will you take, _Sunshine_?” his voice drops of some tones.

“Just one, please.” Cas answers back, giving up his Jack and receiving in exchange a queen of clubs that he puts proudly between two cards.

“Just one simple card, Cas? The game is getting hot, isn’t it?” Dean taunts him and then grabs two cards from the deck. “I’ll take two, hoping for a fresh start.”

A small smile spreads on his lips when he finishes his motions and then with a smirk he doubles the pot, drumming with his fingers on the table.

“What are you gonna do, Cas?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, leaning his face on one hand and staring at him challenging. “Are you gonna call?”

Cas smiles softly and then, raising his chin, he rests the money on the table.

“Yes, Dean. I will call with great pleasure.”

“Well, if that’s so…” Dean lowers his hand “Three of a kind. Always said that women love me.” he says, pointing at the three queens in front of him. “What about you, Cas?” he asks slyly, resting one hand on top of the other. “Amaze me.”

That’s it.

Cas lowers his cards.

“Flush, Dean. I’ve got a flush.” the words leaving his mouth are solemn and his tone is grave when he meets his eyes. “Flush beats three of a kind, didn’t you tell me yourself?” Cas ends, staring satisfied into his shocked green eyes.

The silence stretches between them for a long minute before it’s broken by Dean’s muffled words.

“Cas-“

“Yes, Dean?” he answers easily, without losing the smug on his face.

“You haven’t a damn-“ Dean shakes his head incredulous “You haven’t a flush in your hand.”

Castiel looks at him outraged, squinting his eyes insulted.

“Yet it seems to me that all my cards are black colored, Dean.” he says patiently, as if he was talking with a child. “Flush equals all the cards are black or red.”

A sudden laugh escapes Dean’s lips and when he suddenly gets up, cracking and beating on his own chest incapable of stopping, Castiel stares at him weirded out.

“What?“

“Please, man.” Dean reaches him and brushes his hand on his left shoulder. “Don’t ever change. Please.” he continues to smile and when his fingers leave Cas’ skin, making him feel cold, he’s ready to grab his hand back, gripping it tightly.

“Dean-“ his hand trembles between his fingers. “Dean, I-“ Dean snatches his hand away and a sudden ache in his chest leaves him breathless, yet Dean lowers and stares at him blown out.

Without saying a word he rests his hand on his thigh, making Cas shiver and gasp in search of oxygen. His touch is hot against him and Cas can distinctly feel it through the fabric when it starts to follow the fold of his pants, going higher and higher.

“You can’t fake emotions, Cas-“ his fingertips tighten around his thigh “You can’t pretend like the others because-“ his hand goes higher and he licks his lips, leaving a wet shiny damp on his pink skin “Because-“

Dean grazes his crotch then and Cas jolts back, suddenly getting up from his chair and staring at him in horror.

“I have to go.”

His words hover between them.

Then he storms away, leaving Dean behind and pretending not to have seen the hurt in his eyes.

_What is happening to me?”_

 

*

 

His fingers are restless on the top of his thigh and when he tries to smooth away a crease on the fabric of his trousers he inhales with his nose, finding a whine stuck in his throat.

_Dean’s lips were pink and shiny with spit, his mouth was filthy around his fingertips and his teeth had grazed the salty skin of his hand._

Castiel shuts his eyes closed when he grazes the bulge in the front of his pants and buckles back lost in sensation when his cock twitches against his own hand, making him whine in need.

His heart beats furiously against his ribcage and he can feel the warmth raising against his neck.

His breath is uneven and his chest rises and lowers in search of air.

_Don’t ever change._

He unbuttons his trousers and when he palms himself through his pants he can’t help to feel ashamed.

_He’s weak, yet he cannot stop because Dean’s lips were pink and were against his skin._

_His hand was against him for a brief moment._

He can feel his cock growing against his palm and when Cas raises his gaze his eyes are watery and glossy.

He can’t see through the veil of dampness.

He’s sweating, his eyes are shiny and he bites his own lips stifling a moan when he slips his hand inside his pants, brushing the hot skin of his cock with only one finger.

_Why am I-_

He suddenly grabs himself, wishing for another touch against him, gasping for air in the process and closing his eyes again, starting to pump his cock with a tremulous and shaky grip.

With a slip of his thumb he gathers the wetness he feels against his head and shivers when he pictures Dean’s green eyes looking at him needy, with his fingers in his mouth and his hips flushed one against the other, trying not to squirm when he was searching for friction to ease himself.

The skin of his hand is rough against himself, that’s why he suddenly snatches his hand away and licks his own palm, settling it back immediately and groaning loudly when he pumps his cock faster.

_You can’t fake emotions, Cas-_

The noise of skin against skin is the only noise in the room. 

His hips buckles forward, looking for more friction.

_His lips were stretched against him._

Cas pumps faster.

_You can’t pretend like the others because-_

He’s near, he can feel the rising pression against his lower abdomen, making him shake in despair; with his thumb touches the slit of his cock repeatedly, feeling the blood pumping into his ears.

_Because-_

“D-Dean.”

His movements falter, yet when his nail scratches against his head a sudden groan escapes his lips and the orgasm suddenly hits him, making his vision unclear for a single moment.

Castiel widens his eyes and stares in front of him petrified.

_What have I done?_

 

*

 

When his lips rest on hers, Cas feels a weird pain in his chest, an ache that squeezes his heart.

Dean keeps his eyes shut when she puts her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. She kisses him open-mouthed and when he moans pushing her against the wall, Cas moves his gaze away, taking a step back and gulping loudly when he hears her panting.

He doesn’t mean to stay there watching, yet his body is grounded on the cement under his feet; his pulse is elevated and his heart is beating furiously against his ribcage.

“Will you help me to take my keys, Dean?”

Their lips smack against each other and Cas tightens his fist when he hears his raspy voice against her ear, whispering dirty words against her shell.

She squirms.

“Where are they, Chloe?” she giggles and Cas feels a bitter taste in his mouth when a shuffling noise reaches his ears. “Are they here, by any chance?” more ruffling, a loud moan and Cas opens his mouth trying to regain his breath. “Or here?” a button is pulled out and a zip is lowered. “In your _pocket_?” a strong whine and then Cas turns around, walking quickly away from that street.

Sam had asked him to find Dean, he was _meant_ to find Dean to tell him that the coroner-

The coroner-

His fast steps resound in the night and when he finds a streetlight, Cas puts his hand on the pole, breathing raggedly.

The artificial light illuminates just a small portion of the deserted road.

He feels cold, yet the wind is just a cool breeze that brushes against his dark hair.

_His lips were pink when he was kissing her and her red painted nails were scratching at his neck._

His trench coat is opened and when the wind moves it Cas doesn’t care, he just lowers himself on the bench beside him and clings to his own hands, trying to anchor his body to the ground.

_Are you cold?_

Cas starts rubbing his hands one against the other.

_Yes._

He stays out all night.

 

*

 

“Dean, where the hell have you been?” Sam asks worried, dropping his notes on the table and suddenly getting up, glaring at him.

His brother beams widely when he enters in the room and drops his jacket on the backrest of the chair.

“Do you remember Chloe?” Sam nods, squinting his eyes “Gosh, that chick had the fire in her veins.” Dean wiggles his eyebrow and smirking suggestively, blinking one eye towards Cas that is staring at him expressionless, falls on his bed, stretching his legs.

Sam thins his lips. “I sent him” he points at Castiel “to you. Why didn’t you come then?”

The look of surprise that paints Dean’s eyes is real, Sam can tell it, that’s why he suddenly turns towards Cas, raising an eyebrow. “You _did_ go to him yesterday, didn’t you?” he asks confused.

“I tried to reach him, Sam.” Cas says, avoiding Dean’s gaze glued to his figure. “Yet I caught him in an apparently pleasurable intercourse with Chloe that I felt better not to stop.” he finishes, feeling the weight of Sam’s judgment on him.

“Cas-“ Dean whispers with a low voice, incapable of saying more, but he’s interrupted by his brother that raises a hand and silences him, holding his gaze on Cas’ eyes that won’t meet his.

“Dean, go to the morgue and look into the skull’s victim. You’ll see a small fragment inside the bone.” he says with a deep voice, looking briefly towards his direction and giving him a meaningful look “Your FBI clothes are in the Impala, I picked them up yesterday from the laundry. Just go now.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, yet when he sees the stiff lines of Cas’ shoulders intensify their rigidity he just nods, getting out from the bed and passing a hand on his face.

He meets his brother’s sympathetic eyes and when he passes by Cas, brushing slightly his elbow with his hand, releases a sigh when he feels him jolting away.

“I’ll call you when I arrive.” Dean says before getting out the motel room, leaving them alone.

Sam just sighs when the door closes behind his shoulders and then sits on Dean’s bed, taking a deep breath before starting to talk again.

_His lips were pink and her mouth was sealed against his._

Kissing is a human behavior that requires a muscular coordination involving the use of thirty-four facial muscles and more than a hundred postural ones.

_Her hands were into his hair while he was nibbling at her lower lip, making her moan._

Kissing has a stress-reducing effect, it’s a chemical reaction that brings the subjects to the act of the grooming, aimed to the procreation.

_His eyes were closed and his eyelashes were flickering against his cheek when she had brushed against him, making him jolt in pleasure._

Kissing is a natural human instinct, yet it felt _so_ wrong when he watched his mouth hover over hers, gasping in search of oxygen.

It felt so wrong when he watched how his fingers had laced with hers, dragging her above the first step of her building, stealing another kiss from her red lips.

It felt so wrong when all Cas could think in that moment was that he was cold and that no one was there to warm him.

 “Cas, I-“ Sam chokes his words when he sees Castiel clenching his fist unconsciously as soon as he hears his voice.

His jaw is pulled, his eyes emotionless.

The silence fills the room and when Sam thinks that Cas won’t talk again, he’s snapped back by his low voice, toneless and tired.

“Sam, why does he always kiss them?”

His breath is stuck in his throat.

“What do you mean, Cas?”

 “ _Them._ “

Sam watches him and suddenly _knows_.

“You should ask him.”

Castiel just nods.

“That’s what I thought.”

*

 

The loud chatters around them is occasionally disturbed by the clinking of the glasses served at the tables.

Dean is in front of him, a burger between his hands and his lips stained with a splotch of red sauce, -maybe ketchup, after all Dean himself said that ketchup could be considered a vegetable-, and a somber look on his face.

“He shouldn’t have done that.” Dean breaks the silence, wiping away some oil remnants on his pink lips, totally missing the red stain. “He shouldn’t have gone after her.” he exclaims angrily, meeting Cas’ eyes.

“He had a good reason, Dean.”

“She’s dangerous.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“She’s a _werewolf_.” Dean passes the napkin again on his lips, missing for the second time the ketchup stain.

Suddenly Cas snatches the napkin from Dean’s hand, crumbling it between his fingers and pressing it against Dean’s mouth, tapping energetically away the red sauce.

“Yes, Dean. I gathered that she’s a werewolf when she tried to bite me last night. Thank you for your input.” he starts angrily, oblivious to Dean’s shocked expression.

Castiel suddenly widens his eyes and lets the cloth drop on the floor.

“I- You had a stain of ketchup and...”

Dean gulps and then his eyes clear away the weird emotion painted behind them.

“It’s cool, man. Don’t you worry.”

Cas just nods and then lets his gaze wander into the room.

A couple at the back attracts his eyes, they’re half hidden by a marble column and he can’t exactly distinguish their features, yet the cozy atmosphere, the warm bubble in which they’re enclosed, is clear enough to make Cas curious about their relation.

The woman takes the hand of the man and intertwines their fingers, giving him a shy smile.

He scratches at his neck embarrassed and then, glancing around him and making sure that no one can bother them, caresses her cheek, cups her face and brushes briefly her lips with his own.

It’s a common knowledge that humans feel the constant need to seal their lips to the skin of another, to feel the sweat of their bodies under their fingertips when they’re enclosed in the warmth they’ve created with their joint.

That’s why they kiss, that’s why they need to feel human through their bodies.

That’s why Dean kissed Chloe that night, he knows it.

Yet it doesn’t make it less painful.

A single tap on the back of his hand makes him move his gaze away from the couple.

Dean is observing him with his lips thinned, his eyebrows slightly frowned.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” his deep voice makes him shiver and he can’t control the way his eyes are clouded when he feels the ghost touch of Dean’s mouth against his fingertips.

Cas gulps steadily and then shifts his feet, bumping against the leg of the table.

“Why-“ he breathes unsteadily. “Why do you kiss them?”

The chattering seems to be fading away around them.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you kiss _them_?”

He’s vulnerable, they both are.

Dean lowers his gaze.

“That’s what we do.”

“What?”

Dean takes a shaky breath and Cas closes his eyes.

“Kiss each other, make love to each other, find comfort in each other. That’s what we do, Cas.”

Cas can see the couple hidden behind the column giggle happily.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what human needs, Cas. We need love.”

Dean’s smile is pained.

“How do you choose then?”

“Choose what?”

“Who you must kiss.”

A bitter laugh escapes his throat and he passes a hand between his hair, ruffling them a bit.

“You don’t get to choose, Cas. You don’t get to choose who you do want. You don’t get to choose who you do lo-“ Dean chokes on his own words.

“Why _them_ , Dean?”

His lips tremble slightly.

“Because I need comfort, because I need love. Because they’re not-“ Dean stares at him. “Because they’re not whom I need the most.”

A brief hidden emotion flickers in Castiel’s eyes and then the chattering encloses them again, bursting the bubble in which they were hidden.

In less than a minute everything’ll become normal again.

_Yet not right now._

*

 

“Should have I kissed Chastity, back that day?”

Dean just looks up from the papers he’s holding between his hands and gulps steadily.

“Only if you wanted to.”

“And how do I know when I want to?”

Dean smiles bitterly.

“You’ll know when the moment’s right. You’ll know.”

 

*

 

Sam stops his run, holding him by the arm.

“We can’t let him go, Sam.” Cas shakes violently and Sam’s hand trembles around his skin, making him gasp in surprise. “Sam-“ he looks him into his eyes and when he sees his pupils shiny with tears, he pulls him away, snatching his arm free.

“Sam-“

“He has made his choice.”

“No, please.”

“Cas, come here.”

Castiel stares at him feeling betrayed and takes a step back, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No.”

“Cas-“

“NO.”

Sam’s hand drops along his side when he watches Castiel going behind Dean.

_He has made his choice too._

*

 

_I have to reach her._

_You can’t go there again, Dean. It’s dangerous._

_It’s the only way._

_Dean, please. Don’t-_

_I have to, Cas._

*

 

When he reaches for him and feels his cold skin under his fingertips, Castiel’s heart stops to beat altogether.

_What if you can’t come back?_

_She’s only a child, Sam._

He lays down his body next to the djinn’s and closes his eyes for a brief moment when he sees his chapped lips stained with blood.

_What if what he gives you…_

_Cas-_

_What if we’re not enough?_

He brushes his hair asides and then puts a palm over his heart, gently holding his head with his left hand.

There’s no heartbeat under his fingertips.

“Sam’ll be here soon and everything will be fine.” Cas whispers softly, brushing again his hair backwards.

The child is still breathing, she’s resting against the wall and her little knees are scraped.

Yet she’s fine.

“Dean, can you hear me?” he murmurs in his ear, not leaving Dean’s hand and holding it tightly. “Dean, please-“ Cas takes a shaky breath. “Please, tell me you can hear me.”

Dean’s eyes are closed, his lips are chapped, but stretched in a peaceful expression.

He’s serene, everything in his body screams that he’s serene.

Yet everything in Castiel’s body screams that he’s losing him.

_Sam, you and me- We’re family, Cas._

_Dean-_

_You’ll be always enough. All of you will always be enough._

“You lied.” Cas shakes his shoulders roughly. “You lied and you-“ he gasps and puts a hand on his lips, widening his eyes. “Please, come back.” he says weakly, falling on his knees and scratching with his nails the cold pavement. “Come back.”

“Father, I-“ Castiel chokes a sob when he looks up to the ceiling. “Our Father, Who art in Heaven-“ he starts to pray.

 

*

 

Sam finds him still praying when he arrives.

When Dean wakes up they don’t talk about it.

 

*

 

“What were you thinking about?” he glares at him, flaring his nostrils in anger when he corners him against the wall.

“I was just doing what I had to do.”

A raspy laugh escapes from Castiel’s lips and then he grabs his collar, knocking him against the dirty cement of the room.

Dean grabs Cas’ wrist, trying to soothe him.

“You were just doing-“ he shakes his head in disbelief, incapable to finish his words, and then his grasp on his collar intensifies when he sees the look of defiance in Dean’s eyes. “You’ve just got a hero complex, Dean.” he spits his words venomously. “You’re just an asshole full of his ego that thinks the world rests on his shoulders.” he hisses against him, giving him another shake that makes his head bump against the wall.

Castiel takes a step back and stretches his arms, turning his head to not look at Dean.

“At least _I’m not_ a coward.”

_You can’t fake emotions, Cas-_

Castiel pushes Dean against the wall again and puts his face an inch away from Dean’s.

_And how do I know when I want to?_

He stares straight in his eyes and with one swift movement he imprisons with his hand his wrists above his head, not caring if his arms could be scratched by the wall.

“I’m not a coward.” he snarls against his hot skin, the anger clear in his voice.

“Then prove it.”

_You’ll know when the moment’s right. You’ll know._

And suddenly Cas knows, he knows when Dean raises his head challenging, trying to get him pissed off more, he knows when Dean’s pupils dilates when his lips hover above his and his green irises are totally hidden by the blackness caused by the lust.

He knows when Dean’s lower lip trembles with excitement, waiting for him.

He closes the gap between their mouths and slams their skin together, increasing his strength on his wrists and slipping a leg between Dean’s, making him moan in surprise.

Cas nibbles at his lip and then he suddenly licks into his mouth, not asking for permission, feeling Dean’s hands fight against his grip and his stretched crotch moving forward, trying to look for some friction.

Dean groans when their tongues meet and his clothed erection bumps against Cas’ knee, making his legs jigger for the excitement.

Castiel grinds back and when Dean feels his erection poking at his belly, a needy whimper escapes from his throat, making Cas growls in possessiveness.

Dean gasps for air and Castiel just goes down his neck, biting him and kissing open-mouthed his jaw, liking a long strip of skin and making Dean tremble.

He feels Dean’s hands trying to escape from him and after increasing briefly his strength again he releases them, putting a hand on his shoulder and pressing him against the wall, gluing their bodies together.

Their crotch makes contact and Castiel drops his head for the sensation, feeling a lower pressure beginning to stir in his belly.

Suddenly he feels Dean’s fingers between his hair and when his face is raised by the spot of skin he was torturing he meets his eyes, full of fondness and affection.

The air seems to change and suddenly their movements are not frantic; he stops altogether his grinding and when Dean joins their lips again and nibbles gently at his lower lip, Castiel freezes, feeling his heart lose a beat when he feels the soft brush.

Cas stares bewildered at Dean, with his eyelashes flickering gently against his cheek, while he gently parts his lips with his tongue, tasting him.

His fingers pass between his scalp and Cas lets himself go when Dean caresses his jaw, cupping his face.

_His lips were pink when he was kissing her and her red painted nails were scratching at his neck._

Castiel gasps and suddenly jerks away, staring in horror at Dean that looks at him dazed.

“I-“

Dean stretches his hand as if to reach him.

“I have to go.”

He leaves the room.

 

*

 

Dean stares into space for a handful of minutes, replaying the events inside his head and tapping continuously his foot against the wall.

“You lied, man.” Dean smiles sharply. “You said you weren’t a coward and yet-“

_You were right before, Dean. I’m not a human anymore, I’m an angel now and I cannot change whom I am with a snap of my fingers._

Dean widens his eyes in realization.

_Why can’t I pretend like the others?_

Cas is-

_I have to go._

He is-

_I have to._

He’s more human than ever.

He’s always been.

 

*

 

When Dean enters into Cas’ room, he’s sitting on the bed with his white crumpled shirt half-opened.

As soon as Dean sits besides him, Cas clearly tenses, not moving his gaze from the floor and slightly jolting when Dean’s knee brushes against his.

They’re both staring at the space in front of them.

“What did you feel?”

Castiel clenches his fists.

“What did you feel when you kissed me?”

“I-“ and suddenly he feels a low pressure against his right cheek, that forces him to turn his head. “It felt-“ Dean smiles, encouraging him to continue and Cas gulps steadily before saying his next words. “It felt right.”

Dean’s left thumb brushes against his skin and Cas closes his eyes, letting his face be cupped by Dean’s hands.

“Do you trust me, Cas?”

“Why?”

“Just answer me.” Dean approaches him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Dean closes the gap between their mouths and makes Cas lie down on the mattress, straddling his hips and intertwining their fingers.

He nibbles gently at his lower lip, closing his eyes without furthering the kiss, and he thrusts with his body, making Castiel gasp in surprise for the sudden stab of pleasure that runs through him.

Cas clings desperately at his shoulders and makes their chests collide when Dean repeats the gesture, making his cock twitch in response.

Their crotches are joined and their movements are frantic and desperate.

Dean’s fingers trace a path from Cas’ neck towards his chest, his palm rests steadily on his heart and he smiles when he feels Cas’ accelerated pulse under his fingertips.

Castiel moans when Dean gives another thrust and with one swift motion he cups Dean’s face, tilting it towards his head and conjoining their lips again, making Dean pant for the surprise.

He licks inside his mouth, tasting Dean on his tongue, and when their teeth clings painfully against each other Cas starts to press kisses on Dean’s jaw, sucking and nibbling at his collarbone and reversing their position.

With his back resting on the mattress Dean starts to unbutton his shirt, groaning when Cas takes his lobe between his teeth, thrusting again and feeling their bulges grow harder one against the other.

“Touch me.” Dean whispers and Cas stops altogether his movement, staring at him in disbelief. “Please, touch me.” he repeats without meeting his eyes, with his cheeks growing redder.

Castiel gulps steadily and when he sees Dean’s red and swollen lips, with trembling fingers, he gazes the button of his jeans, unfastening it and taking the zip down.

Their breaths are the only noise in the room, Castiel’s eyes are still fixed on Dean’s figure: he has closed his and he’s biting his lower lip in waiting.

Dean arches his back when Cas’ hands rest on his bulge, moaning loudly when his fingers bend slightly increasing their pression; his eyes are blown wide, full of lust and need, its black pupils shiny with want and reduced to just a small green ring.

“Cas-“

Castiel gets on his knees and Dean grabs him, clinging in desperation and sticking his nails into the soft skin of his arm.

“You don’t have to-“

Cas mouths at him through his briefs and Dean lets his head drop on the mattress, putting a hand on his lips and biting into it to stifle his groans.

He can feel Dean’s hard cock growing under his lips, he can feel him twitch in pleasure trying to restrain himself, he can feel himself growing harder at the sensation of Dean’s erection under his mouth, so Castiel unfastens his trousers too in search of some relief, palming briefly at himself.

Sticking his tongue out he licks along him, dampening the cloth and making him gasp.

Slipping a finger on his waistband he lowers his briefs, making his cock’s head stick out red and shiny at the tip, with a drop of pre-come shining through the light.

Castiel smirks and then he lowers his head, blowing at his slit; Dean shivers and turns his head, squinting his eyes.

“Don’t be shy.”

Dean widens his eyes when Cas suddenly takes him in the mouth, moaning around his length and palming himself. He bobs his head and then Dean grabs his hair, pulling at them slightly trying to put Cas closer, but Cas just bats his hand away, detaching slightly and licking his lips, tasting Dean on his tongue.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Dean whines.

Cas lowers himself again and he engulfs his erection, sucking and nibbling the shaft while Dean moves his hips, and then Cas unbuttons his pants, lowering the zip and slipping a hand inside, touching himself without gazing off and drinking in the sight of Dean moaning and trembling.

He’s a work of art, of this Cas has always been certain; his shiny lips, his narrowed eyes, prey of the pleasure, his salty skin and the musky taste Cas has on his tongue is what brings him to stretch a hand and cup his balls, making Dean jolt in surprise, sliding a finger furthermore.

He grazes at his rim and feels the tender skin of his body.

“ _Christ._ ”

He sucks more and then he puts a finger inside him, closing his eyes when he feels the warmth that surrounds his digit. Dean’s cock twitches inside his mouth, making him leak at the head more pre-come.

Cas pulls at his own cock and buckles slightly, Dean’s cock slips from his lips and Dean whimpers in need, widening his eyes and staring at him in despair.

His hair are disheveled and his shirt is clinging at his chest, soaked in sweat.

He’s a mess.

_He’s beautiful._

“Please, Cas.”

He’s looking at him like a mad man and Cas gets up from his knees, pushing him on the mattress and forcing his legs apart.

Their cocks touch for the first time, skin on skin, and Cas growls.

He takes his hair and joins their mouths, liking inside him while his hips snap faster and faster, the movements more frantic and less sharp moment after moment.

Suddenly Dean grasps his wrist, stilling him and reversing their position, positioning himself on top of him until his cock slips between his crack.

Dean puts his hands on his chest and just smirk when Cas gasps and groans when Dean gives a push, moaning unabashed.

The wetness of Cas’ leaking cock is wetting his thighs and Dean couldn’t care less, he just touches himself, pulling at his cock and pumping steadily, while Cas’ hardness slips again and again between him.

He snaps his hips and Cas goes to meet his movements, clinging at his arms and squinting his eyes.

“Come for me.”

And Cas stiffens and then comes violently, his cock jerking between Dean’s thighs while he moans louder, reaching him fast towards the edge.

Their breaths are uneven, their skins red and sweat clinging at their bodies.

Their eyes meet.

Castiel suddenly gets up and leaves the room.

 

*

 

He just stares at the hard and brown wood of the door, holding his breath and tightening his fists along his sides.

The corridor is immersed in a complete silence and Cas can hear his heartbeat thumping against his ribcage, while the blood pulses inside his ears.

His senses are sharpened and everything seems too much still around him.

He’s alone and he doesn’t want to be.

Not anymore.

Cas takes a step forward and then a step back, shaking his head in disbelief when he can’t make up his mind.

Groaning he reaches for the door, resting his head on the hard wood and giving a little thump against it, sighing and grabbing the handle.

_Dean-_

The door suddenly opens and Cas jolts back.

When he raises his gaze he meets Dean’s eyes that are staring at him emotionless.

He just steps aside and with a nod of his neck he invites him to enter.

Cas follows and when Dean lies down on the bed he pats a spot on the mattress.

“Come here, I’ll hold you.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Just… come here.”

Cas approaches him and when he rests his head on Dean’s chest he can feel his steady heartbeat under his ear.

Everything’s quiet around him and the soft thumps against his skin are constant and resolute.

Dean’s hand starts brushing his hair and Cas closes his eyes.

Castiel doesn’t sleep that night, he’s an angel and angels don’t sleep.

Yet for the first time in his entire existence he keeps his eyes closed and lets himself be lulled by the warmth of another human being.

Castiel keeps his eyes closed and he’s in peace with himself.

 

*

_This body, Cas… is yours. Yours. You deserve to be loved. You deserve it._

*

 

When Dean opens his eyes again, the cold spot on the mattress makes him shiver.

 

*

 

Jimmy Novak should have been a simple man: with a wife, a daughter, a dog, and a ruined white fence he should have painted years ago.

Jimmy Novak should have been a simple man and he would have been, yet one day Castiel had stolen his body and suddenly Jimmy Novak just stopped to exist.

 

*

 

The wind dishevels his hair while he kneels in front of the dusted grave, brushing aside the roots wrapped around the cold cement.

“What I’ve done to you and to your family-“ Castiel sighs and stops himself for a moment, trying to regain his voice. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

The wind rises.

“You didn’t deserve this, Jimmy.”

Castiel’s eyes _-Jimmy’s eyes-_ water and a sudden sob escapes from his lips when he bends over the grave, trying to anchor himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.”

A sudden warmth on his shoulder makes him raise his head.

A silent figure crouches beside him, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

_Dean._

That stays silent while Castiel sobs.

That stays silent when the wind seems to whisper in Castiel’s ear “We forgive you”.

That stays silent when Castiel cries his heart out.

That stays silent now that dust won’t turn to flowers again.

 

 

 


End file.
